Donations

Sometimes, life can bring pleasant surprises.
One evening last week, while we digested supper by watching TV, the doorbell rang, and my wife went to answer.
Two young girls, one in grade 2 and one in grade 1 at the local elementary school, were standing there (with Mom in the background), asking for a donation to 'Muscular Dystrophy.'
I recall that when folks used to collect for the Jerry Lewis Telethon, it was usually carried out by a group of tall firefighters (members of the International Firefighters Union), and you placed your donation in the 'Boot.'
To use the current jargon, Dear Reader,: For transparency -- I have a form of muscular dystrophy: Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease, or C-M-T, and have difficulty walking and performing some fine-motor tasks.
However, the girls' query 'passed the test,' and as my wife was handing over our donation, she asked the girls their names: Betty and Ashley (not their real names), and if they knew anyone with muscular dystrophy. They did, as one of their classmates was required to use a wheelchair for mobility around his home and school.
Then she told him that I had a form of the disease, that I was sitting in our Family Room, and asked if they would like to meet me.
The girls became very enthusiastic, and the next thing I see are two heads bobbing above the kitchen counter, as the girls come over to meet me.
My wife introduced them, and we showed them my 'walker,' which is used for mobility, indoors and outdoors, and my plastic leg and ankle braces. After a quick, get-to-know-you chat, my wife escorted them back to the front door, when one of them remarked, “Now, I understand better.”
They thank us for our donation, join the Mom (who has been waiting patiently in the cool air outdoors!), and are on their way.
You might say, Dear Reader, that it was a nice story … But, I assure you, it was only the 1st chapter!
About an hour later, the doorbell rang again, and the same two girls appeared, this time handing my wife a greeting card.
The front and inside had been hand decorated, included a 'thank you' for our donation and for the chance to meet someone with muscular dystrophy.
Cute little postscript: on the back of the card, someone (Mom) had printed the credit line: 'Card by Ashley'.
I do not recall meeting youngsters of that age who were so well prepared for their task, so totally self-assured, and at the same time, so well-mannered.
And as for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, wouldn't Jerry Lewis be proud!